Philophobia
by Lamented
Summary: Draco is abused mentally, physically, and sexually by Lucius. On his seventh year at Hogwarts, he decides not to go back home for the holidays as planned. Chaos ensues. SeverusDraco slash. Graphic stuff. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter I

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.  
  
Philophobia- Fear of falling in love or being in love.  
  
Summary: Draco is abused mentally, physically, and sexually by Lucius. On his seventh year at Hogwarts, he decides not to go back home for the holidays as planned. Chaos ensues. Severus/Draco slash. Graphic stuff. Don't like, don't read.  
  
Chapter I  
  
November always seemed to be a forgotten month. Just before Christmas, and just after Halloween. At Hogwarts, little was done in November except perhaps extra assignments given out, although the weather was rather nice. For the first few days in this neglected month, it was cold enough to wear a nice wool scarf out on the grounds and enjoy the crisp breeze as it gently caressed one's face. The grounds seemed to glisten in the morning with fresh wintry dew, and the scenery was so serene. Of course, this was before snow blanketed the green grass, and the lake received a sheet of ice. Nevertheless, November was special in it's own way. To Draco.  
  
Six forty three in the morning on a Thursday was the most frustrating thing at the moment. Waking up from such a warm, comfortable environment in which there wasn't a care in the world, to feel the frigid air of a winter morning with knowledge of a fully scheduled Hogwarts day ahead was enough to make one want to fake ill. The blonde shifted from side to side, which resulted in just getting twisted up in his sheets. Nice going, Draco. Frustrated beyond reason, he jumped off the bed and dragged himself to the bathroom.  
  
The cold floor tiles were a nice wakeup to the Slytherin's bare feet, as he flipped on the light. Another day of learning, and dealing with that damn Harry Potter. And his stupid little sidekick friends. That was slightly hypocritical of him, however, since Crab and Goyle still hung out around him. He really didn't like their presence because, to be frank, they made him look stupid. Yet they still followed him around as though they were dogs. How disgusting.  
  
Twisting the knob for warm water, the blonde started to slip off his clothes. Basically, they just consisted of silk pajamas and cotton boxers. Nimble yet tired fingers gave special attention to each button on his shirt as he slipped it off of his milky shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Steam was already fogging up the mirrors in the room, but the warm stuffiness felt rather refreshing, as did the water. Blonde hair turned a glistening honey colour as they dampened, and Draco let out a small contented sigh.  
  
Of course, the rest of his day wasn't as pleasurable as his morning shower. At all. Breakfast was oatmeal, and Draco hated oatmeal. It showed such a lack of effort in some way. History of Magic should never be the first class of the day, reason being the extreme amount of boredom makes the day seem longer. At least in Potions he was able to ridicule Weasley.  
  
Ah, Potions. The highlight of his day.  
  
Not only was the young Malfoy good at the class in question, he was a teachers pet. Yes, Draco was a much loved student to the intimidating Professor Severus Snape himself. The potions professor seemed to love Draco. Well, as far as intimidating potions professors go anyway. And although Draco was slightly nervous around his Head of House (to which he would never admit to), he respected him and admired the older man. Yes, seeing Snape brightened his day.  
  
The final bell rang, and Draco couldn't have been more relieved. He stood from his desk, as did everyone else, and shoved his notes into his satchel. Rather uncoordinatedly. Of course, at the moment he could care less about how neat and organized his bag was. More thoughts were on his mind in that short time between packing up and the actual dungeon doorway. Winter was here, and he couldn't avoid it. He would have to go home once more for the Holidays, and face hell on earth. Ever since Potter had sent his father to Azkaban two years ago, his father had been beyond harsh. Yes, of course he escaped; Malfoys always have a way of escaping things.  
  
How?  
  
Everyone is entitled to a trial, Lucius having been no exception. He simply told the Ministry that he had been under the Imperius, slipped a few galleons under the table. That was really all it took, that with the confidence the senior Malfoy always had with him. During the whole trial he never broke a sweat, which made Draco nervous beyond reason.  
  
And so Lucius was back in the Manor, and very disappointed. Which basically meant he would take his anger out on Draco. Great. At least Narcissa was smart enough to have left after the trial.  
  
Draco had always been close to his mother, and to see her leave drove the boy to near insanity. With his mother being just about the only person who cared for him, he felt eternally lonely now. He remembered how Narcissa would comfort him while he lay in bed after Lucius had beaten him. Despite his wounds, those moments had made him feel comfortable.  
  
The blonde found himself not moving in the empty classroom as he came back to reality. He had been standing there alone with his hands resting on his bag, and perhaps a few minutes after the bell had passed. To add on to his surprise, he wasn't exactly alone. A second shadow was on his desk next to him, a much taller one. This alone was enough to give the boy a heart attack, but he kept his composure and turned around.  
  
"Sorry Professor, I was just leaving."  
  
However, as Draco cast his eyes up at the professor, he was surprised to see he wasn't angry. In fact, he seemed curious. Not many had ever seen Severus Snape curious, but Draco was supposedly blessed enough to witness it. He pulled his satchel on his shoulder automatically and moved away awkwardly. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising slightly in embarrassment. However, just as he was leaving a pale hand rested on his shoulder.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy."  
  
Severus paused until Draco's eyes met his, and continued.  
  
"I'm here if you need someone to talk to."  
  
Draco found himself staring at his professor questioningly, but simply nodded meekly in response. He couldn't say that he wasn't surprised to see an emotion so similar to compassion in the daunting professor.but he was grateful all the same.  
  
"Thank you, Professor," he added, his voice uncharacteristically quiet as he moved to the door and took his leave. 


	2. Chapter II

Disclaimer: Again, don't own, don't sue.  
  
AN: Since I got so many reviews on my first chapter in less than 24 hours, I figured I'd start on another chapter right away ^_^ Enjoy, and comment!  
  
Chapter II  
  
The way back to the Slytherin Dungeons seemed to take longer. Every step was automatically done. It's funny how even when you're not paying attention to where you're going, you still end up getting there. Strange, yet convenient.   
  
As if Draco didn't have enough to think about, now he was reminiscing about the encounter with his potions professor. For some reason, he felt a little uneasy. Getting sympathies from the least sympathetic person alive made the blonde feel pathetic. He must have been, too, if that was the case. Draco must have had some sort of disturbed look on his face during that time he was in potions, or maybe his grades were falling . . . he hoped that wasn't the case. If he had gotten any records lower than what he already had, there would be hell to pay with Lucius.   
  
Brushing back rogue strands of blonde from his eyes, he descended one of the many staircases. Students were still chatting animatedly with their friends in the hallways. First years were laughing, girls were gossiping, a few younger Slytherin boys were playing keep away with a Hufflepuff's wand. Draco sneered. How immature . . . and yet he could still remember a time he did that once. He must have been a real brat back then.  
  
But then again, that was before his father had started to abuse him . . . Poor Draco was probably too traumatized now to be his normal, annoying self again.  
  
~][~  
  
A headache was starting to form. A single pale hand raised to rub his temples as Severus moved to his desk. At least classes were over for the day. All that was left to hear in the once noisy dungeon was the soft click of the professor's shoes against the polished stone floor. Such a lonely sound, it was.   
  
Taking a seat at his desk, Severus routinely pulled out his quill and red ink and started to grade papers. It wasn't a very exciting pastime, but it had to be done. The process of grading was so simple it was rather subconscious; meaning he could mark papers and think at the same time. Which he usually did, and this time it was no different.   
  
Normally the potions master would think of things which reflected on himself. Sometimes he would think of his past and wish he could change it. Of course, he would scorn himself afterwards . . . it didn't do to think on the past when you can't do anything to fix it. More often than not, Severus would be thinking of some sort of complex potion he had been working on. It was addictive, like an unfinished book; you just had to find out the ending of it, or you would go insane.   
  
Occasionally he would think of his students and staff, but that was rare. The only few times he could remember such an occasion was when a student was failing his class. Yet being the sadistic bastard he usually was, he found himself imagining how horrible the rest of their life would be as they failed at everything else. He would never voice these thoughts aloud, however. No idiot who wanted to keep his job would.  
  
No, today his thoughts were directed towards Draco. Only seldom had he thought of the young Malfoy, and smiled to himself alone when he realized how much the younger boy was starting to look and act like his father. It was at least two or three years ago that he had been his cocky and self-assured persona, but it felt as though it was only yesterday. He remembered when Malfoy was dragged into his room a good three years ago in tears, and had explained his horrible experience as a white ferret.   
  
Despite the good memories that brought back, Severus felt a sudden depression weighed on his shoulders.   
  
Yes, those were certainly the better years; when he was able to watch as Draco grew and help him along the way. It made him sad to think that time was over, and the young Malfoy was too grown up. At least he had what. . .five, six months left to teach him. And be able to watch over him until he left for the real world.   
  
Being the boy's Head of House was an advantage in that case . . . but one thing still disturbed the professor. Draco had never come to him willingly. He was always sent to him by means of the staff or detention. Not once had he seen the blonde at his door for advice or comfort. Was Severus really that intimidating now? Did he scare children into the discomfort of being around him?  
  
Probably . . .  
  
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Severus stopped grading papers and closed his ink bottle, reaching over to grab a cloth to clean his quill. His thoughts had gotten to him again. He couldn't help it. Seeing Draco after class that day with such a distraught look on his face . . . he couldn't help but offer his services in some remote way. Even though the boy was most likely not going to heed them.   
  
The way his student backed away from him so awkwardly, his innocent yet corrupted eyes nervous, made the professor rethink his approach on everything. Perhaps he had become so stoic to the world that he had lost his care for others.   
  
Obviously that wasn't the case, since he was so depressed over one simple student.   
  
Stashing his things away, Severus moved out of the room in no real hurry. Black robes caressed the stone floor as he moved. Students had pretty much left to their Common Rooms at this time, which was about five o'clock. Dinner would be soon, but the professor had a feeling he wouldn't be attending. He fell victim to his thoughts again, making his way to the dark, cold, lonely room in which was his quarters.   
  
~][~  
  
Poor Draco felt as though he was going to be sick by the time he had reached his dormitories. His continued thoughts on his family, school life, and Head of House made his stomach flip several times. The Malfoy's life wasn't looking very good from this angle . . . but in a way, it was.  
  
He had lost his faith in most everything. He was questioning life, emotion, this pathetic thing called "love" as he looked around the halls. Love was such an overused word . . . when what was really meant was "affection". To call a relationship that is bound to last only a week love is ridiculous. Love, to Draco, was something that meant an eternal bond. Not that he was a fan of "bonds" of any sort.  
  
In fact, the concept of it frightened Draco. His father had claimed to love him, his mother had claimed to love him. . .and look what that got him. His father was an overly possessive character who would temporarily paralyze Draco (or use the archaic version and chain him to the bed) and then beat him brutally. His mother had left him for her own safety, and refused to take Draco out of school so he could join her. He hadn't received a letter from her once.   
  
Sitting down on his four poster slowly, the sheets still a mess from the morning, Draco buried his face in his hands. He would have cried, and no one was there to witness it, but he just couldn't. He was too empty even to do that. He needed something to do . . . homework maybe. No, on hindsight that didn't sound so great, either. Well, dinner was in an hour. . .he could wait for that.  
  
Or he could go talk to Severus . . .  
  
________________________  
  
TBC 


	3. Chapter III

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.  
  
AN: Ah, loyal reviewers. How I love ye. Please continue to R&R my fic, as it is not worthy of such appreciation x) done now. Oh, and yes, a flashback will be on the way. Next chapter.  
  
Chapter III  
  
Such a dark night. A dark, cold night. Snow had fallen and left a glaze on the grounds. The castle had been sprinkled with the powder, and every window was black. Six o'clock had finally come, and so had the darkness of night.  
  
Everyone in the Slytherin Dungeons had left for dinner by now. In fact, most everyone was in the Great Hall enjoying a warm meal and talking with their friends. Yes, that was the place to be now. Now that school had ended for that drawn out Thursday. However, not everyone was enjoying themselves.  
  
Draco had entertained himself for the past hour by sitting in his dormitory alone. Yes, alone. He had ordered everyone who was in their to take it somewhere else, and as usual they complied. His roommates had learned over the years that when Draco needed to be alone, it was best to leave him alone without question. The very few who refused to leave had witnessed one of his, for lack of better word, tantrums. Violent tantrums.  
  
And so here Draco sat, alone and undisturbed near the windowsill. The glass was slightly frosted, making the darkness outside seem more empty. It was times like these, when the young Malfoy was all alone that he began his questionings again. What was life, what was death, what was love? These things could never be described truthfully, it seemed.  
  
His curiosity on life and death had always haunted him, but never had it impacted him as it did tonight. It was tormenting him. Several times had he wondered what happened when death takes you. Do you just . . . Fall into a dark abyss and never experience time, space or reality again? He himself had simply refused to partake in the stupidity of religion.  
  
Only weak hearted men take after religion and believe in a God. That was what his father had told him. Only the weak who fear death believe that sort of thing, and those were the type of men who created such a thing. That was why the Malfoys were atheist.  
  
Draco lifted his hands to bury his face in them. His thoughts were too clouded to make any sense. All he wanted to do was die. Just lie down and die. Did life really seem worth it, when all you do is work your ass off until you lose it all in death? Fighting off a paroxysm of tears, the Malfoy pulled himself away from the gloomy window to his bathroom.  
  
His first instincts were to take a long, sullen bath. With bubbles. But as he entered the bathroom a wave of nausea hit him hard in the gut, and he leaned over the sink. He braced himself for anything that might come, but nothing did. Probably because he hadn't had anything to eat. "Damn . . ." he murmured to no one about nothing as he backed away from the marble sink to look himself in the mirror.  
  
He couldn't deny it; he was rather beautiful. One of his few blessings. Platinum blonde hair brushed back, yet a few strands still falling over his mercury colored eyes. A tall yet lithe body, resembling a runner's, and a fair complexion. Thank god; orangey-tan skin was extremely ugly in Draco's eyes. And to finish it off, he had a certain majesty only a Malfoy could possess, one of greatness.  
  
But today, his 'majesty and greatness' had abandoned him. Now he was just a sad, lonely boy who had nowhere to go in life and could only look forward to pain and dissapointment. He suddenly hated that mirror, and moved away from it to sit on the rim of the bathtub. He could take a bath . . . But what would really be the point?  
  
His second option to bring his thoughts away from harsh reality was to go talk to his professor. Did he really want to, though? Sure, he knew his head of house rather well after seven years of being schooled by him, but could he really talk to him about his problems? What if he was just . . . Uncomfortable?  
  
But on the other hand, why had his professor asked him in the first place? Maybe this just confirmed his inquiries about being his professor's favorite student? Or maybe Severus had something to tell him? Damn, why did that man have to be so secretive and, and . . . Mysterious?  
  
A few rooms away, the Slytherin Grandfather Clock chimed seven times. Dinner would most likely have been over by now, so this would be the time to do it. For the first time in a while, the Malfoy felt a nervous shudder go down his spine. That had only happened a few times. Namely, with his parents.  
  
Growling and picking himself up from the bathroom tub, Draco made his way out of the room. He grabbed his robes and slid into them, leaving the dormitory just as a few boys entered. Down the stairs and through the common room he went, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going or what he was doing. No one else needed to know.  
  
~][~  
  
It really was a cold night. Moreso when one was down in the dungeons. A fire crackled in the corner of the room, but it had been dying for some time. The room in question was tidy as usual. An ordinary couch sat next to an ordinary armchair which was in front of an ordinary fireplace. Several bookcases covered the walls, and a few books lay scattered carelessly on the floor. Of course, this wasn't the only room; a small kitchen and a bedroom were also part of the living quarters.  
  
The only thing different about this room from any other in Hogwarts, was that the sultry potions professor was lounging in front of the fire.  
  
Leaning back in the armchair, Severus closed his eyes. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, but it must have been a while. The wine in his glass had been reduced to a little sliver of red at the bottom, and it had stained the glass. Setting the glass down on the table at his side, he sat up and stared at the fire. No matter how hard the fire tried to sizzle happily, it sadly gave up after a while and was reduced to an isolated glow in the logs.  
  
There was some sort of metaphore in there, he knew it.  
  
The room had also fallen from the somewhat comforting warm glow to a dark, shadowy place. Haunting almost. There was another light on in the kitchen, as the wine bottle still rested on the counter, but other than that it was cold, dark, and lonely. Gods, how pathetic Severus had turned . . . But he couldn't help it.  
  
His childhood had passed, which he might have been thankful for on other circumstances, but now he was just . . . Old. Well, maybe not old, but he wasn't a child anymore. The Order seemed to be growing weaker; which Severus didn't doubt from the first place. And of course, his favorite Malfoy, Draco, would be graduating in a matter of six months or so.  
  
And then he would most likely never see the boy again.  
  
If there was ever a time Severus would have a breakdown and cry, it would have been now. Sadly, he was too stubborn to cry. Stand up slowly, the potions professor took his glass and went to the kitchen. What was he doing, just wallowing away in self pity? Perhaps he was subconsciously waiting for Draco . . . But inside he knew that it was a slim chance the boy would actually come. He set the glass down on the kitchen counter and refilled it slowly, watching as the velvety red liquid slide into the glass. How much like blood it looked.  
  
Sighing to himself, Severus leaned his elbows against the counter and placed his forehead in his hands. Yes, he was definitely going through a mid life chrisis, and he knew it. He had already been feeling more lonely than normal, and that was really saying something, since the potions master had always been an isolationist of sorts. He had found himself unable to sleep at night, and thus led to harsh shadows underneath his eyes. And a cranky mood, to boot.  
  
Running a hand through his black hair, he picked up the glass with one hand and sipped at it.The strong vintage wine soothed his feelings in some instances. That must have been why the drink was so popular. Standing away from the counter, he left the kitchen after flipping off the lights. Now it was pretty much pitch dark in the entire place, save for the dying glow of the fire. He would have to light that again.  
  
Pulling out his wand with his free hand, he muttered a spell and the fire drew back into it's happy crackling self. Satisfied slightly, he took his seat again down on his recliner. Ah, what a Thursday. What a god awful Thursday. At least it was over, and Friday would be tomorrow. Which meant no more classes for two days. Oh, how he wished for that weekend to come early.  
  
Just as Severus started to take a sip of his wine again, a knock sounded on his door. His heart skipped a beat, and he set the glass down on the table. Did Draco actually come? He glanced towards the clock. It was only seven fifteen, so it was possible. Standing up slowly, he drifted towards the door with uncertainty. But what was he getting himself all worked up over? After all, he was just a student.  
  
Opening the door, he was met with the happy face of Dumbledore. Great. "Good Evening, Severus!" The professor blinked, and stepped aside to allow the Headmaster in. However, the old man declined it with the wave of his hand and looked up at Severus. "I just wanted to ask of you a favor. Madame Pomfrey is short on pain killers, and we would be most grateful if you could whip us up some."  
  
"Yes, Headmaster."  
  
"Thank you, Severus. It's always wonderful to have your help."  
  
Sighing, Severus nodded and prepared to shut the door, when he was stopped again. "Oh, and Severus . . . I've heard of this wonderful thing; a Muggle pill called Proza-"  
  
"Goodnight, Headmaster."  
  
Shutting the door, Severus turned around to sit back down, but stopped. Continuing to stand in the doorway, the professor put a hand on his forehead and sighed. Alright, now he was getting a little too anxious. Another nock, and he turned around almost angrily. Something always had to disturb his thought.  
  
"Headmaster, please, I need to get--" Severus paused as he opened the door, looking down instead of straight ahead. The orangey glow inside of his room cast an outline on a student who stood a few feet away from the doorway, as though he was about to leave. His fault actually, for saying random things as he answered the door.  
  
With a knowing smile, one that the potions professor had never expressed before, he stepped to the side and allowed the student to enter his quarters. Normally he wouldn't let a pupil come into his 'domain', but this was an acception. He had, after all, invited the boy.  
  
"Come in, Draco." 


	4. Chapter IV

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.  
  
A/N: Yeah, this chapter took forever simply because I'm having problems in school e.e Anyway, here it is so...enjoy. This chapter is a bit more graphic, but nothing extreme.  
  
Chapter IV  
  
The first thing that came to his mind as he entered the room, was that his professor had used his first name. It actually startled him to some extent.  
  
The room was actually warmer than he had expected. Almost comforting, compared to the frigid hallways. It had a nice, inviting atmosphere to it. As Draco looked around the room, he noticed a glass of wine on the table near the fire, and he raised an eyebrow. Well that was something new; he didn't think his professor was one for liquor. Wonders never ceased.  
  
Draco merely stood in the doorway, looking down at the floor as he was invited in. He heard the door close behind him and didn't bother to turn around, or even raise his vision for that matter. Living with Lucius had taught the young Malfoy not to be 'disrespectful', and in this case, if he looked up at his professor he would be just that.  
  
So, he occupied himself by staring at the floor and his shoes while Severus walked around him. Great, less than five minutes in and already he was starting to feel awkward. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Draco raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. What was he supposed to do? Gathering his nerves and self confidence together, he finally cleared his throat to the professor standing before him.  
  
"Sorry to bother you so late at night, Professor," he started, moving his hand back down to his side and subconsciously placing it in his robes pocket, "but . . . well, you said I could come by if I . . . wanted to talk." At this, he raised his head to look up at his Head of House, whom he was expecting to have an impatient expression. But he didn't.  
  
No, instead he looked different. It was interesting . . . He seemed rather, un-Snape like. His black eyes weren't cold and hollow, and his face wasn't hard and emotionless. This puzzled Draco, and he simply looked up at the man as he waited for an answer. However, none came immediately, and this added to the Malfoy's discomfort. "Sir..?"  
  
"It's not late, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said simply, not adding onto that as he moved away from the blonde to the direction of where he was most likely sitting before Draco had interrupted. Not sure whether to follow or not, he remained in front of the closed door with his hands still in his robe pockets. Already, he could tell this would be a hard night.  
  
Obviously Severus had caught Draco's nervousness, and the professor sat back down in his recliner. "Don't just stand in the doorway, Mr. Malfoy, come sit down." He picked up his glass of wine and held it in his hand in front of him as he watched the fire. At least he hadn't used his rude commands he usually barked at students who came into his office late at night for detentions. Of course, this wasn't his office, and neither was it detention.  
  
Respectfully doing as he was told, Draco sat down on the couch near the recliner, sitting near the arm of the furniture so he could lean against it slightly. Being here suddenly made him awfully tired. He resisted the urge to yawn or press a hand against his eyes as he too watched the fire as it danced merrily. Just about the only light in the room, it was.  
  
This time, Draco didn't have to break the silence, as Severus did it for him. "I'm sure you must be slightly surprised to have me offer you my counsel," he started, swishing the red wine in his glass slightly and setting it down on the table with a soft clink, "but I know something isn't right, Mr. Malfoy. Your grades have been slipping, not too considerably mind you, and I've found you not to be paying attention in my class." So much for the casual approach.  
  
At his words, Draco drew his eyes away from the fire to the opposite side of the room, almost as if he was embarrassed to look at the same fire Severus was. He knew this was true. And he shouldn't have been so surprised to hear it spoken.  
  
"I know, Sir." That was all he could bring himself to say. The last couple of weeks had been hard on him, after all, so why wouldn't his teachers notice? Especially his head of house. He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck uneasily. He knew Severus was watching him, and the silence that followed made goose bumps spread over his skin. Oh, how much Draco hated awkward silences . . .  
  
And this one seemed to last forever. Draco shifted his position a few times on the couch before looking up at Severus to see he actually wasn't being watched. Instead, the Professor was looking at the fireplace, seeming to be in his own world of thoughts. An uneasy feeling had long since settled in his stomach, and he was starting to feel a little nauseated. Why did he feel so uncomfortable? He had been in the same position with his father before, and he had gotten used to the tenseness as it hung in the quiet air.  
  
Again the Professor spoke, but it seemed more hushed this time. "Mr. Malfoy . . . I'm not trying to meddle in your personal affairs," he paused to turn towards Draco, his dark eyes appearing darker. "But I don't want to see you fall behind, either." These words seemed to strike something in Draco, and the blonde looked down at the rug. Fall behind? He didn't . . . he couldn't afford to.  
  
His eyes fell to the ground, and his thoughts began to wander.  
  
~][~  
  
Draco's uneasy sleep was disturbed by a sudden added weight at the foot of his bed. It couldn't have been earlier than two o'clock in the morning. Whenever the young blond felt that added weight at his bed, he knew silver eyes which he inherited were watching him as he slept. It made him uneasy, and sometimes physically sick. He absolutely hated his father's presence, and that was who it always was who sat at the foot of the bed.  
  
He didn't want to, but he opened his eyes anyway. They were already adjusted to the darkness of the room, and he could see the older man's silhouette perfectly. A cold shiver spread over his skin from being jolted from his unconscious state to see a haunting figure leering over him in the middle of the night. It was like a horror movie, just before the main character got his head cut off.  
  
Draco didn't speak, and neither did his father for a while. After a minute passed (and Lucius noticed he was awake) the father did speak. Softly. "Wake up." The command was simple, but his tone seemed almost impatient. The boy groaned and did as he was told, sitting up slowly and letting the covers fall off of his bare chest. It was summer, and too hot to wear much to bed.  
  
His father seemed to enjoy the sight, but Draco wasn't able to tell. It was too dark to see his face.  
  
The younger Malfoy felt the bed shift, and watched his father's form moved across the bed. Even though Draco tried not to show it, he was afraid. He was always afraid when Lucius came into his room. Hell, he was afraid to just be in the same house as him. He didn't speak, afraid his voice would break, and leaned back against the headrest, just waiting for it to be over before it started.  
  
Lucius didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, himself. He never was. His father had longer hair than him that was normally tied back, but now it was loose over his shoulders. For some reason, Draco was always reminded of some sort of Egyptian pharaoh with both his looks and dominant nature. And his cruelty. The older man's hair tickled his chest as his father leaned over, only inches from his face. He suppressed a shiver as he felt the other's cold and slightly moist hands on his bare skin. He had been drinking. He could smell it in the man's breath. He hated Lucius' mood swings when he was drunk. He could go from being uncharacteristically gentle hearted to being a savage blood thirsty sadist.  
  
"Father . . ." Draco's whisper rang in his own ears in the silence of the room. His father grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed him against the headboard of the bed. It was times like this he was regretting wearing only boxers to bed. His father was wearing his normal night robes, which consisted of silk that others would want to wear during the day if they had the chance. Lucius always had to look his best, even in his sleep.  
  
Draco felt his father straddle his waist slowly, and the pressure made him groan. His once open eyes slipped closed, and he tilted his head to the side. If he ever watched anything but the inside of his eyelids during these rendezvous, he would be physically and mentally sick. It did things to you when your father sexually abused you. Still, the younger blonde knew not to argue, beg, or try and tell someone about his evil father. Who would believe him, when Lucius was a well known "fine" man of the Ministry.  
  
Besides, Lucius had so much money he could bribe his way out, and then chain Draco to the cellar like a rabid animal. He feared such a thing, and that was what made him quiet.  
  
His father's cold hands took their time in touching him, and as always his body betrayed him. With the combination of his father on his lower region, and the hands caressing his sides, he was always caught somewhere he didn't want to be. Aroused in front of his father. Damn his lower organ for being so sensitive to pressure, otherwise this would never happen.  
  
Lucius leaned down and talked into the other's ear as he continued to rock his hips slowly over Draco. "Stop pretending . . ." he whispered, "I know you love this." The word love nearly sent poor Draco into shock, and he turned his head away from his father's lips as they pressed against his ear. He wanted to say "no" for once, and have a backbone around his father, but he couldn't. He was afraid.  
  
His father seemed disappointed in the way he turned his head, and seemed to forget about foreplay altogether. His face fell, and his cold hands left Draco to pull off the covers. Now the boy was exposed in front of him, with only goose bumps and boxers which felt rather tight now. The only word he could whisper without getting cursed or tortured for the rest of the night while this happened was simply, "Father . . ."  
  
-][-  
  
"Draco."  
  
He felt a hand on his cheek, and was jolted sharply out of his memory. His silver eyes focused on worried black ones straight ahead of him. "Draco," Severus repeated, "are you alright?" Apparently Draco had completely ignored the rest of what Severus had said after he fell into a flashback. A bad flashback. The hand on his cheek slowly moved down, and before it left he was able to feel something wet on it. A tear . . . his tear! He was now utterly embarrassed, and raised a hand to his eyes. "Sorry." he whispered, his head bowing down a little. He always apologized after being caught crying. A habit he was left from his father.  
  
Severus seemed taken aback at the apology and knelt down in front of him on the floor. He was silent, and Draco figured he was still waiting for an answer. "Oh. Yes, I'm alright," he lied. His tears betrayed him, and Severus knew it. The professor stood up and instead of sitting back on the recliner, sat down on the couch next to Draco. He put a hand on his shoulder in a comforting way, and rubbed it lightly. Why was he being so nice to this student? Not just because he was Slytherin, but for two reasons. Because Draco seemed to remind him of himself when he was in Hogwarts, and Severus knew Lucius too well. And he was just the kind of twisted man to corrupt his only son.  
  
Draco's shoulder seemed to tense under Severus' touch, but it could just have been because he was afraid of being touched by older men now. In fact, that was the most likely scenario. The potions master withdrew his hand and instead watched the boy next to him closely. "I think perhaps it's time for you to head back to your dormitory."  
  
This made the blonde next to him a little relieved, but morose at the same time. He didn't want to leave the comfort of the warm fire lit room, and yet he still felt uncomfortable around his professor. It was somewhat nice though, to have an older man care about him. All the other men he had met in his life he either hated, or were disrespectful and rude to him. Of course, Draco was probably rude first, but it was just a defense mechanism. He couldn't be blamed.  
  
"Yes, professor." Draco stood up slowly from the couch and looked down at Severus, smiling a little. "Thank you, sir." He turned to the door and his smile faded as quickly as he was out of the other's vision. He didn't exactly know why he had said thank you, but just thought it would be nice to thank the other for his time. He rubbed the side of his arm and made for the door, when the other's voice sounded again.  
  
"Although, if you wish, you could stay here if you don't feel comfortable going back to the Slytherin tower."  
  
Draco felt black eyes on the back of his neck as he stopped by the doorway and rested a hand on the wall, looking down on the floor. His chest seemed to freeze as he heard the suggestion, and turned around. His eyes seemed to search for a reason why the professor had suggested to allow him to stay, but he could find none. And truthfully, he couldn't find a reason to deny the offer. True, he was scared of having an older man nearby while he was sleeping, but he knew Severus wouldn't hurt him.  
  
A smile graced his lips. A little, genuine one. "Yes . . . Thank you, sir."  
  
_________________________  
  
TBC 


	5. Chapter V

Disclaimer: You all should know by now I don't own any of this e.e except the story line.  
  
A/N: Sorry this chapter took over two months to write, I've just been lazy XD And once again, many thanks to all those who take the time out of their busy Fanfiction reading lives to comment on my homely story .  
  
Chapter V  
  
Draco was led by his professor to a small hallway in the back of the room which led left. There were four doors down the hall, two to the right, and two to the left. To the right, was a bathroom, which he found later in the night (which we will get to later) and next to that was a closet. On the left side were the two bedrooms, the Master Bedroom and the Guest Bedroom. The hallway itself was lit with a few candles which sparked on once they walked by.  
  
Severus opened the nearest door to the left and opened it, which showed a normal sized room with just a four poster bed and a few other random pieces of furniture, like a dresser and a chaise. The tall professor mused for Draco to follow him into the room with the wave of his hand, and he did. His quicksilver eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, but before he had the time to, a fireplace in the corner burst into life by a few words from Severus. He hadn't been able to see that there was a fireplace before in the dark.  
  
He blinked and instinctively rubbed his eyes from the sudden orange light, and was able to see the room more clearly. He took his time in roaming around, familiarizing himself with the space, however "cozy" it was. He picked up a few books on the nearby desk pushed up against the wall, and looked them over to hear Severus' deep chuckling behind him. He turned around and gave his professor, who sat himself down on the side of the bed, a curious look. "What?"  
  
The dark haired man shook his head slowly, his eyes closed. "You're only staying for a night. I doubt you'll be needing to look over the collection of books." Draco felt himself redden slightly, and he looked back down at the desk and shoved the book his was holding back in place. "I was just curious," he said, not turning back around as he stared at the desk drawers. For some reason, he felt a little hurt to realize that he was just staying here for one night. That he would leave the comfort of a single bedroom in the company of an adult he could trust by morning.  
  
He heard the bed creak as Severus stood up, and slowly turned around. He looked up at the professor, and recognized again for as long as he had been at Hogwarts that this man was very very tall. There was an awkward moment where they just stood, facing each other in silence, until Severus broke it. "You should get some sleep. It's almost ten." Draco nodded, even though ten was hardly the time he even thought about sleep, he was more tired than normal at the moment.  
  
"Yes," he replied in a more strong voice than he had used the rest of the night, and looked up to meet Severus' dark gaze. It was then he realized, when he was watching the man as he stood just in front of him, that he wasn't at all as he had assumed him to be. It was like he was seeing another side of him. The glow of the fire was blocked by him from Draco's view, and the orange light clung around the outline of his professor, making his appearance seem much softer. Like something out of a romance novel.  
  
It made Draco want to touch him. Not in an intimate way, or anything, but just . . . feel him. See if the person in front of him was really there. It wasn't the Professor Snape that he recognized from the six going-on-seven years of Hogwarts he had attended. It was a human being, not a scary or intimidating professor, who was looking down at him with a concerned and yet tired expression. Not sleepy-tired, but just . . . tired of life. He started to realize maybe the two of them were alike in more ways he would have guessed, but that was just his mind going too fast and assuming things.  
  
Once the second wave of silence had passed, Severus raised one of his pale hands and rested it on Draco's shoulder gently. "Goodnight then. I'll wake you early, so you can get back to your Dormitory before your roommates wake." Ah, yes. Damn it for being a Thursday evening. What he wouldn't have given for it to be Friday. But life was never convenient for Draco. It seldom seemed to work out the way he wanted. The blonde nodded, smiled his thanks mechanically, and watched his professor leave. The click of the door closing stirred Draco back into movement, and he advanced towards the comfortable looking bed.  
  
It was the beginning of winter, which meant it was awfully cold in the lower parts of the castle. And Severus' quarters were in the dungeons, one of the coldest places in the school. Naturally, Draco was glad for the warm firelight beside his bed, which Severus had graciously lit for him before he left. He murmured a silent thanks for his professor, and then crawled into the bed after kicking off his shoes. He didn't mind sleeping in his clothes- he had done it quite often before when he just felt too miserable to change.  
  
He crawled into the middle of the big mattress on the bed, and pulled the covers back. They were cold from being left alone so long, and Draco was grateful that they were soft, fluffy cotton. Silk sheets could get so uncomfortable in the winter, they stayed cold no matter how much body heat he mustered up. He took off his tie, hung it around one of the posters of the bed, loosened his first few shirt buttons, and then situated himself under the comfortable blankets.  
  
The coldness in them wore off quickly once he had settled and adjusted to his body temperature and the fire's warmth. He sighed comfortably, drinking in these simple luxuries as he closed his tired eyes. If he listened closely, behind the sound of the fire crackling, he could hear Severus' footsteps as he walked around not in the front room, but the room next to him. The Master Bedroom. He figured his professor had to get to sleep earlier than everyone else, since he was required to wake up at an ungodly hour of the morning.  
  
He yawned once, and curled up on his side, taking the blankets with him and thriving in their newfound warmth. He was so comfortable, that by the time he found a comfortable spot curled up against the pillow and the soft feather mattress, he fell victim to sleep.  
  
-][-  
  
Those cold hands were exploring him again, but they weren't taking there time. They were skimming down his flesh in feathery touches that made him arch his back and shudder unpleasantly. His father seemed to like his reaction, and leaned down to bite his son's neck. The young blonde bit back a groan at his father's doings, his silver eyes shut tight.  
  
The feel of long blonde hair skimming over his bare chest and stomach made him want to scream more than the wandering hands did. He wanted to tell him to stop, push him off, bite him, hurt him . . . anything to get this man off of him and to leave him alone. But nothing would work, as he knew from past experiences, and so he just lay there and let his father continue. His whole body was tense, and he was reduced to a groaning and shivering boy.  
  
Lucius placed his hands on the boy's hips, his thumbs hooking onto the rim of Draco's boxers. They slid off quite easily under his fingers, as they always had before. Once the material slid down enough that Lucius could take them off, he did just that. He tossed the clothing off the side of the bed, not giving any thought to it, and leaned down for the "kill".  
  
His hands were cold. Why were they always so cold? And as those pale digits wrapped around his most sensitive area, he bucked his hips up and gasped. Because that was what Lucius was expecting, and sure enough those mischievous silver eyes were lit with a lusty fire. He pressed on, running his hands over his offspring's flawless skin in a rather sensual manner that made Draco feel sick.  
  
Strangely, there was no talking this time. No whispered dirty words or sweet nothings in his ear tonight. It was just silence. Perhaps it was better this way. Whenever Lucius bothered to whisper "I love you," his head would swim unpleasantly, and his stomach would tie up in knots. Back and forth his father's fingers went, skimming every inch of him and leaving a burning trail in their wake. But it was unpleasant. Very unpleasant.  
  
He tossed his head to the side slowly, blonde locks blinding him from the sight of his father temporarily. His father moaned something inaudible, pressed himself against Draco's entrance, and he finally lost his composure.  
  
"STOP!"  
  
-][-  
  
"Stop?"  
  
Draco found himself tangled up in a bundle of soft, and very uncomfortably warm blankets. The fire had been relit, and was dancing passionately in the corner. The whole room had a sort of sunset glow to it, even though it couldn't have been earlier than midnight. His mercury eyes shifted around until they fell on the Potions Master, who was leaned over and examining him curiously.  
  
"Stop what, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
He sat up slowly and raised a hand to his forehead, when he realized something very unsettling. "Oh God . . ." he whispered, grabbing for the blankets and holding them tight against himself. But instead of hiding the fact that he had been aroused by a very sickening dream, another wave hit him. This time it was nausea.  
  
Draco stood up quickly, pushing past his professor to hurry down the hall. He made it to the bathroom just in time, but he didn't make it to the toilet. He settled for the sink instead, since he figured Professor Snape would certainly not be happy about vomit all over his bathroom floor. The bile came up his throat without warning, and the retching noises that ensued could be heard all the way to the bedroom.  
  
Once the stinging in his throat had cleared, and he was certain there was nothing left in his stomach to come up, Draco weakly turned on the taps to wash it down. By this time, Severus had come into the bathroom and flicked on a few candles. There was a hint of worry that was etched on his face, especially since this was his star pupil. Once Draco had slumped to the ground and held his stomach, his Professor knelt beside him as well.  
  
"I think it's about time you've told me what's troubling you, Malfoy."  
  
Draco groaned. He couldn't live another night like this, and they were beginning to grow endless. Severus watched him with an unwavering black gaze, but when Draco said nothing he stood up and left the room.  
  
Great. Was he mad with Draco? Was he upset because there was something that Malfoy wasn't telling him? He sighed and curled his knees against his chest, his head bowed incase another nauseous wave hit him without warning. At least he would be close to the bathroom now. He was shaking from the dream, the retching, and the painful arousal he still had. Not to mention the thought that he had upset the one adult that he had learned to trust.  
  
But Severus wasn't upset. Nor did he leave Draco for much longer than fifteen minutes. He came back with a vial of dark blue liquid, and it appeared to be slightly metallic. The blonde boy on the floor looked at it curiously, before getting his still burning throat to manage a sentence. "What is that?" he croaked, standing up slowly.  
  
Severus handed the glass to Draco without delay and then led him out of the bathroom. "A dreamless sleep potion. I have plenty stored, and I want you to get a good night's rest. You're obviously sick, and I won't have you going to classes tomorrow."  
  
Draco would have been delighted, had he been in his normal mood. Now, he just felt sick, tired, slightly horny (to his disgust) and miserable. "It's a Friday, Professor, I-"  
  
"I know what tomorrow is. You aren't going to your classes. Do I need to repeat myself?"  
  
"No, Sir."  
  
Severus smirked. He loved winning arguments, even if they were against someone he liked. "Good. Now drink half of that, and if you wake up again, take the rest or come to see me." He mused Draco back into the guest bedroom before turning heel to leave again.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
He paused, ran a hand through his dark hair, and looked back at the student who was still standing in the doorway, looking up at him quietly. He had never seen Draco like this before. He looked . . . vulnerable. "What?"  
  
Draco looked at the vial, and then up at his Professor. "I . . . Don't tell anyone. About this. Please." Severus could tell how this would be a very personal matter, so he nodded before walking down the hall back to his own room, leaving Malfoy to watch him retreat before closing the door to his room.  
  
He sat down once more on his bed, looked the vial over, and raised an eyebrow. Dreamless sleep potion? He hadn't heard of that one before. He popped the top off and made sure to take precisely half of the bottle, before setting it down on the nightstands next to his folded black robes. As for his arousal, he would attempt to sleep it off. It would be hard, but he doubted taking a cold shower in the middle of the night would have made Professor Snape much happier.  
  
And so, he tucked himself back under the still warm blankets, his mind slowly running over the nights events, before he fell asleep again. And he had a peaceful, dreamless slumber for the first time in ages, until dawn approached his window.  
  
TBC. Once again, many thanks to all reviewers! Unless you're a flamer . . . then you can just go away. 


	6. Chapter VI

Disclaimer: All characters are JKR material, not mine.  
  
A/N: My computer had guess how many . . . 95 viruses. Yeah, and now that I deleted all of them my computer seems to be going even SLOWER. Ugh, so now I'm on a different computer thanks to that, because I have suspicions that Spyware is on my laptop. My files were on my laptop, so that's why this chapter took a bit longer to write.  
  
Chapter VI  
  
Draco indeed had slept rather peacefully through the night, without disturbing dreams of his father, and without waves of nausea. Probably the best sleep he had gotten in weeks. He woke placidly, feeling very well rested. His mercury eyes blinked several times before actually opening to stare at the ceiling. The fire had long since died, but the room was lit with a dim grayish blue light. Dawn's light must have even crept into the dungeons of Hogwarts. Maybe it was some sort of spell.  
  
Slowly climbing out of bed, he reached down for his robes and shoes, only to find them missing. No, Snape wouldn't have stolen them? The thought vanished immediately after he realized how stupid a theory that was. Like a professor at Hogwarts would steal his clothes. So he sat there in his pants and dress shirt that he had worn yesterday, pondering what to do. Well, he could just sit there and wonder what to do for hours, or he could go out and find his professor.  
  
He made his way to the door and reached for the handle, when the handle turned itself. He stepped back, expecting to see Severus standing behind the door, but was sadly disappointed. In fact, he had to lower his head considerably so he was practically looking at the floor. "Good morning, Sirs!" came the squeaky voice of one of the Hogwarts house elves. Draco made a face and let the thing in.  
  
He wasn't one to be surprised by a house elf waiting on him, but he just wasn't expecting to see one at Hogwarts. After all, the good sign of an elf was that no one noticed them there, right? The thing trotted in, holding a tray of what looked rather like his breakfast. Draco watched it, then looked to the open door, and decided to leave it do whatever it was going to. Probably clean the room or something.  
  
His bare feet made silent padding sounds as he moved down the cold stone floor of the hallway. It didn't take long before he reached the closed oak door of what he presumed to be his professor's room. Should he go in? Should he knock? What if he was still asleep? Draco had never really thought so much about what to do when knocking on someone's door. Eventually, he settled for just knocking three times and waiting.  
  
No answer.  
  
Another knock, and still nothing. He decided to chance it, and creaked the door open to look inside. He was surprised to see that the room looked as if no one had occupied it ever. There was a four poster, but it looked to be a queen sized rather than just a twin. He knew the teachers had gotten better living arrangements then students! There was also a rather nice quality desk next to it, with a lit oil lamp.  
  
There was a fireplace, currently unlit, and another door which Draco had guessed to lead to a bathroom. The whole place seemed vacant, so he decided to try the other rooms. Only halfway through inspecting the kitchen did he look up to see the clock, and realize what time it was. Eight o'clock. Well, certainly Snape would have gotten up earlier than that to start off the day. He felt rather stupid now for not considering that in the first place. Blaming it on the early hours of the morning, he made his way back to the guest room.  
  
So what was he supposed to do now? He saw the house elf walking down the hall, apparently about to leave, and he stopped it by standing in front of it. "Where's Professor Snape?" he demanded, figuring the creature in front of him would know. He made an odd whimpering noise and cowered, rubbing his hands together and looking fidgety. "Master Snape has gone off to lessons. He is telling Figgy to bring Mr. Malfoy breakfast until Master Snape gets back from his lessons." Draco snorted, amused. Figgy? That was worse than Dobby for a name. "Right, what am I supposed to do then?" he said to no one in particular, but Figgy obviously thought the question was directed to him.  
  
"Sir could do homework?"  
  
"I wasn't talking to _you_!"  
  
He brushed past the house elf and into the guest room again, to see everything was straightened out just as Professor Snape's room had been. The house elf must have just finished with his professor's room when he came into the guest room. He looked at the food which had been brought to him, and decided to eat. He sat down on the bed, and brought the plate to him. At least it wasn't oatmeal.  
  
The young Malfoy found he rather liked eating alone. Because he didn't have anyone to talk to, so he could just enjoy his food as much as he pleased. And French toast was always something to look forward to. He loved French toast. His fork fell to the plate once he had finished, and he set the tray down on the nightstand. Alright, well breakfast was done...his eyes skimmed across the room and landed on the selection of books. Ha, and Severus said that he wouldn't be needing to look at them.  
  
He stood up and moved over to the other side of the room, where he looked through the selection. Most of them were boring, and had to do with school related topics like spells and potions making. He did find one of slight interest, and picked it up. It was a book on the dark arts and how to identify them. Being a Malfoy, he already knew many dark arts curses, but thought this might be interesting.  
  
For the next couple of hours he sat back and read up on a few curses, each seeming more illegal than the next. This was the sort of book one would be expecting to find in Durmstrang, but he figured that Snape knew their headmaster rather well, and could have snuck a book like this out of the school and into his possession. Eventually he got tired of reading, and decided to see what else there was to do. Maybe Severus had some kind of doohickey to keep him occupied.  
  
He walked out into the hall and glanced to his side, to see his professor's door still open. Curiosity got the better of him, while the blonde crept closer. He glanced over his shoulder to see that the door which led out into the dungeons was still closed behind him, meaning Severus hadn't come back from lessons yet. Good, this gave Draco time for snooping, and he loved snooping.  
  
Professor Snape's room was still as clean and tidy as it had been when he had peeked in a few hours ago when he stepped inside. It felt strange to be in the bedroom of his professor. It was like someone had slapped him in the face and said "Snape sleeps _too_, you idiot. He's not a bloody robot." He giggled under his breath at the thought of his professor with an antenna sticking out of his head, and then scolded himself for giggling. Malfoys don't giggle.  
  
His attention was drawn to a bottle of whiskey on his nightstand, and he stared at it oddly. Wine, whiskey, what else did Snape drink? Was he some sort of drunkard on his free time? Well, the glass seemed to be more full than empty, so perhaps he just "enjoyed the taste" every once in a while. He for some reason didn't want to believe the only man he trusted was a drunk. He walked towards it and looked down for the brand name. It looked something in Russian.  
  
He decided not to touch it incase Snape did any fingerprint scans or whatnot. Never put it past a Death Eater to keep strong precautions of his things. But still being curious, he pulled his wand out from his pocket and pointed it at the drawer under the nightstand. It opened with the flick of his wrist. He seemed a bit disappointed to see only a few letters inside. He was expecting something more interesting. "Ah well, let's take a look," he said to no one in particular, looking down to read the one on top.  
  
_Severus,__  
Happy birthday. I don't know how fast these Post Owls are, so I am sending this earlier than normal. I know you don't like parties, or even for others to acknowledge your birthday. However, I figured a nice bottle of something special would be a good celebration for you. I happen to remember this was the brand you preferred, the last time you came to visit. Don't waste it all on one night, now.  
  
Igor_  
  
Igor? Who the hell was Igor? Probably just someone Snape knew. But he couldn't help going over all the people he only knew by last name. Did he know this Igor who wrote the letter and sent the whiskey? Most likely not, but his father might have. Maybe he would ask his professor about it when he came back.  
  
Draco closed the drawer with the flick of his wand and turned to the bed. It was big, and came up to his naval when his beds back in his dorm only came up to mid thigh. He ran his hands over the material. It was made of an incredibly comfortable fabric, that he suspected to have some sort of magic effect weaved within it. To test this theory, he sat down on the end of it. Odd as it sounds, his butt was in heaven the moment it touched the bed.  
  
Tempted to try this unrealistically comfortable bed out some more, he leaned back to lie flat, staring up at the black canopy draped over the four poster bed. He surprised himself by letting out a relaxed sigh. This was the most comfortable bed he had ever been on in his life! "Wow . . ." He smirked and for the first time in his life considered becoming a teacher for Hogwarts just so he could lie in this bed. He raised a hand to run it through his hair and turned over to lie on his side, facing the door.  
  
Gods, how long did lessons go? Well, the last of the morning classes would be in a half an hour, so he decided to take his shower before Snape got back. He felt awkward not having a shower after sleeping. For the first part of the night he had been sweating quite a lot, due to the dreams he had been having.  
  
Getting up with a groan, finding that standing on his feet was even more unbearable now that he had witnessed lying on that bed, he moved to the bathroom in the hall. Only to be disappointed by what he saw, which was no shower, or even bathtub. "For the love of Merlin," he said in frustration. There had to be a shower somewhere in this place. And then he remembered the bathroom in Snape's bedroom. Duh, of course the shower would be in the master bedroom.  
  
Feeling stupid for not thinking of this in the first place, he opened the door to find his theory correct. A bathroom slightly smaller than the ones at his own Manor, but no doubt larger than the bathrooms in the other parts of the castle. "Not fair, the teachers get it so much better than students." He sulked for a minute while he turned on the taps of the shower, waiting for it to warm before he took off his shirt. He closed the door, locked it, and then proceeded with stripping himself of the rest of his clothes.  
  
A shower felt nice when he didn't have to think about homework which needed to be finished, or lessons he needed to go to. He ran a hand through his hair and looked around. He was slightly surprised by what he saw, but not bewildered. There was a bar of soap alright, but no shampoo or conditioner bottles anywhere. What was he supposed to do, magic himself some? He sighed, deciding that he would just wash his hair when he got back to his dorm, and picked up the soap.  
  
The showering process didn't take that long, but Draco wasn't in a rush to get out, and so he took his time. A warm shower felt rather good on a cold November Friday. However, all good things had to end. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips, dried his body off, and then used the same towel to dry off his hair. Gathering his clothes in his arms, he headed for the doorway and opened it to the rather cold master bedroom. He nearly died from shock.  
  
Professor Snape was standing in the doorway by the hall.  
  
Draco gasped, his hands flying down to his towel to make sure he was covered fully. In the process, his clothes fell to the floor, but he knew better than to bend down and pick them up. He waited for his professor to say something, but he just stared and looked at a loss for words. Attempting to redeem himself, Draco cleared his throat and straightened up.  
  
"Ah, sorry Professor. I . . . I wasn't sure if I was allowed to go back to my dorm, but I had to take-"  
  
"For Merlin's _sake_, put some clothes on, Mr. Malfoy!"  
  
Feeling embarrassed beyond all reason, he stopped talking immediately and reached for his clothes, before standing up again with one hand on his towel. Well, it looked like he was going to wear the same clothes over again, to his disdain. "Sorry Professor," he muttered before backing up into the bathroom and closing the door. Well, at least Snape didn't look mad.  
  
He opened the door again after he had gotten dressed and dried off his hair using a spell from his wand. Severus was sitting on the bed, his back to Draco. "Professor?" he said a second later, closing the bathroom door behind him. Severus stood up slowly and turned around, watching Draco from the other side of the bed. It was an awkward moment for both of them. Probably more so for the Malfoy however.  
  
"Er, like I said before, I'm sorry about using the-"  
  
"I never said it was off limits."  
  
"Right, but you didn't exactly give me permis-"  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
The question caught Draco off guard, and he ran a hand through his hair. Oh right, he was supposed to be sick today. "I'm . . . still a little dizzy." He followed this statement by placing a hand on his forehead and looking down at the ground. It was a rather poor show, and both Draco and Severus knew it. The professor raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.  
  
"I see you've also taken the liberty of trying out my bed."  
  
Now he was in for it. No professor would like them sitting in their bed. It was like animals with their territory. "Well, I did sit down for a minute," he confessed, shrugging his shoulders lightly. Severus merely grinned. "I suppose if you're feeling well enough to take a shower and observe my bedroom, you can surely bear the walk to your dormitory." Draco looked crestfallen. He avoided his professor's gaze by staring at the wall to his right, his brow furrowed.  
  
"Professor . . . I wanted to talk to you. I couldn't last night, because I- I don't know." Right, like he was going to tell his head of house he was nervous. However, Severus seemed to guess that on his own, and nodded knowingly before musing to the door which led to the hallway. Draco exited, and Snape followed at his heels. Back to the living room they went, where Severus lit a fire and sat down on the couch, musing for Draco to do the same.  
  
Still nervous, and feeling more awkward than he had last night, he cleared his throat. "Well, my father just got cleared of charges from the Ministry," he paused to see Severus nod and wait for him to continue, "and ever since he's been back, home just hasn't been the same. It's awful, mother left last year, and hasn't written to me in months." By now Draco's voice had a hint of desperate hysteria, like when one was about to go into tears. Severus looked nearly alarmed, but waited for him to continue. "He wants me to come back this winter break again, and I- I don't know if I can."  
  
Severus looked gravely at Draco, the shadows under his eyes more prominent as he leaned his head forward in a silent nod. "And why can't you?" he said calmly, his hands folded in his lap while he waited for the young Malfoy to continue his story. He bent his head, composing himself, and continued in a small voice.  
  
"He's . . . he's insufferable. When in company, he's as nice as can be, especially around the Ministry and their employment, but . . ." he seemed reluctant to go on, afraid of the consequences if he told Severus what it was Lucius had been doing to him. He looked up at his professor quietly. Could he really trust this man? He was friends with his father, wasn't he? What if he was waiting for Draco to tell him, so he could rat him out on Lucius and-  
  
No. That was ridiculous. Over the six going on seven years he had been here, Severus had been nothing but protective of him.  
  
"Does he hurt you?"  
  
His head snapped up when he heard Severus speak, and his blue eyes had become slightly fearful. It was a yes or no question, but he didn't give either as an answer. "Well, I don't know if it could really be classified as-"  
  
"Does he hurt you, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
His tone had a bit of impatience in it that Draco wasn't keen about. ". . . Yes."  
  
They sat in silence for a minute, Draco's eyes on the ground and Severus' eyes on his student. "And you don't want to go home because he will hurt you again?"  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
And that seemed all the convincing that Severus needed. "Then what do you propose to do, Mr. Malfoy?" The latter simply stared at his shoes, his brow furrowed again. "I was hoping you could help me with that, Professor . . ." He then looked up to Severus expectantly. His expression had gone from frustrated and frightened to just needing. He needed a refuge, anywhere but his father's home to stay before he became of age and could move out. And he needed someone he could trust, and rely on if things got bad. He was hoping it could be the man next to him.  
  
Severus could sense this, and he raised a hand to rest it on Draco's shoulder in reassurance, before he stood up from the couch. "I will tell the Headmaster that you will be staying with me, and inform your father that you have chosen an extra credit assignment in my class that will take up your vacation time and require you to stay at Hogwarts." Draco looked light hearted, and certainly relieved. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
"In the meantime, you should be resting. If you certainly are dizzy, then you can't be walking around and taking showers in the middle of the day."  
  
"Yes, Professor."  
  
And he nearly skipped back to the guestroom. Nearly. The weight of the world was off his shoulders, and he could breathe easily once more. He hadn't felt this good since his father had been sent to Azkaban. He opened the guest bedroom door and slipped inside, not even minding that he was wearing the same clothes he had worn yesterday, or that his hair needed a good shampooing.  
  
He had a feeling this was going to be the best damn Christmas ever.

---

TBC. And yes, the Igor mentioned in the letter is none other than Karkaroff. Not sure if the letter scene actually had any meaning, I just like paying attention to detail sometimes and adding useless things. 


End file.
